Sailing Wondertime: A Family Voyage from Seattle to New Zealand

Part 1

Getting Ready

Chapter 1

This is Wondertime

She is a good little ship, and always tugging at her dock lines.

One day, a man had a dream of building a small stout boat that had a nook for everything and neat tidy bunks. She would have a ketch rig that was easy to sail and a center cockpit that was cozy and dry. His little ship would be simple and true.

So, Meridian Passage was born one spring day in 1978 on Bainbridge Island, Washington and was carried over land to her new home in sunny Southern California.

Over the next years, she would be fitted out with a galley for cooking and a dinette for gathering and eating aft, a sea berth, a double berth, and a head amidships, and two little bunks in the bow (perfect for—unbeknownst to him—the two little girls who would one day sleep there).

Two stout masts were added and sails and an engine for when the wind wasn’t blowing and one fine day she was launched into the sea.

Meridian Passage enjoyed many years of sailing in the sunshine to the California islands, then destiny took her to the Columbia River where she explored freshwater nooks.

One day a small new family happened upon her and knew she was the ship they’d been searching for: not too big and not too small, not too simple and not too complex, not too old and not too new. This lovely ship sparkling in her slip was just right for the little girls who would soon dance on her decks and their parents who would sail them near, and someday, far.

So Meridian Passage was sailed northward up the sea to the sound where she was born and nestled into her slip in the crook of the sound.

The family took to her and loved her right away and knew that she was their true home. Her little girls loved her too, and were filled with wonder every time they visited.

And that is how Wondertime found her new home.

Chapter 2

T Minus 365

It’s time.

Our departure date has been set: June 2011.

We got approved to live aboard Wondertime at our marina this past week.

We gave notice to our landlords that we’ll be out of our rental house by July 31st.

Our empty storage unit lies waiting for us to fill it up.

The stack of plastic crates grows, filling up with that which is truly important to us.

There’s a permanent box sitting on the sidewalk outside our house with the words Free Stuff on it.

The piles for eBay, Craigslist, and Goodwill grow every day.

By the end of next month, two parents, two little girls and two ancient cats will be living aboard Wondertime.

Originally, our plan was to stay in our rental house for two full years, then move aboard a month or two before heading down the coast to Mexico next year. But as our project list gets slowly checked off, and the boat bucks flow out of our cruising fund, it has become clear that the only way we’ll be able to pay for all the needs and even a few of the wants we’ll have to pare down our monthly expenses. The most obvious place to cut back being our rent, gas, water, garbage, and electric bills. Since we’re paying the marina bill anyway, it only makes sense to pile everyone on board and save a whole lotta cash every month.

But maybe we just miss living aboard.

It has been nearly four years since we’ve lived afloat and we’ve missed our watery life every day. Of course, with two young children having a nice big bathtub, washer and dryer, dishwasher and well, room, has been pretty nice. But as we’ve spent more and more weekends aboard this past year, it’s been hard for all of us to pack up Sunday afternoon and leave Wondertime to head back to our land life.

So, it’s time. Time to be water-dwellers again. Time to get rid of all this ridiculous clutter that has come into our lives over the past four years. Time to simplify. Time to live under the bright full sky with the horizon in view. Time to watch the sea birds and fish every day.

Time to float.

Chapter 3

Stuff It

Day and night, for weeks on end we’ve been sorting, tossing, packing, stacking, moving, cleaning, selling, giving away, organizing, and analyzing each and every item we own. Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Or maybe it’s not. It sure feels like that’s what we’ve been doing.

We have lived on land for three and a half years after living aboard for seven. You wouldn’t guess this, if you could see how much stuff we have accumulated in that relatively short time span. When we moved to our rental house from the house we sold a year ago, we filled a 24-foot U-Haul van with not an inch to spare. And that was after giving away a ton of stuff.

We ask ourselves: how did we get to this point where all this stuff seems to run our lives? We don’t even shop all that much (except we sure are weak at Costco and Target and eBay). But somehow it has just come rolling through the door, cluttering our rooms and our lives and now we have taken on the task of getting rid of nearly all of it.

This is not easy to do in several ways. When I thought about this the other evening, as I collapsed into a heap of exhaustion after another day of sorting and packing, I realized that I have held nearly every item we own, and have had to decide: take to the boat? keep in storage? sell? give to the thrift shop? It hasn’t been physically taxing so much, although I’m sure I’ve walked at least 10 miles this week back and forth and across the house while sorting. Rather, it’s this mental decision-making process that has turned my brain to mush.

We are getting rid of nearly all of our furniture, except for a couple small things that have been in the family for a long time. Everything else has gone up on Craigslist. This can be delightfully quick and easy, like the young college student couple who came to our front door, handed us $150 for our dresser, popped it in their van and drove off. Or, it can be a time-wasting nightmare, like the guy we’ve emailed back and forth about the intimate details of our $20 computer chair for two days, then he was supposed to come by two nights ago, never showed, then promised to come the next night, never showed…

Which makes us want to do with everything what is really fun: sticking it out on the sidewalk and putting a free sign on it. When we were moving aboard for the first time eleven years ago, we were down to the last items in our apartment and just put them all on the sidewalk as we had to be out that day. An older fellow of clearly modest means walked over and saw the microwave sitting there.

Are you giving this away? he asked us.

Yes, please take it if you want it! we replied.

His face beamed as he picked up the unit.

Wow, thanks so much! I’ve never had one of these but have always wanted one. And he carried his new prize down the street pleased as punch.

We’ve never forgot the joy this fellow felt at his free gift and have since much preferred just putting things out on the sidewalk with a big free sign on them. This time too, I’ve seen people walk away with lamps, dishes, toys, art, CDs, books tucked under their arm, delighted with their new-found treasure. And I grin too, much more satisfied than the dollar or two these things would garner at a yard sale.

I’m typing this on our last night on land. Tomorrow, we’ll haul the most important items to Wondertime. It will only be a carload or two. Everything else—and I can’t even remember what now that it’s gone—will be out in the world, maybe becoming someone else’s important thing instead of gathering dust in our closet. It does feel good to set this stuff free.

Chapter 4

The List

Every cruiser-to-be has got one of these: The List. The list of things to get done on the boat. A copy of our list hangs next to the computer where we sit several times each day. Of course, in order to fit it on one printed page the font is 1.5 point or something like that which renders it virtually unreadable. But if we squint we can remind ourselves of how close—or how far—we are to setting off in a year. And there is nothing more satisfying than taking a black pen and drawing a line through a finished to-do. Well, maybe except for drawing a squiggly line across it, which means it’s been scratched as a to-do entirely.

On our list, items are given one of the following priorities:

1 – safety issues that must be done before takeoff

2 – high priority maintenance/improvements

3 – general maintenance/improvements

4 – would be niceties

Up at the top there we have items like replace seals on windlass, purchase life raft, and install new non-skid on companionway ladders. Our #2s are things like replace wooden blocks (charming, but heavy as bricks), rebuild head, and seawater foot pump. #3s are things like new canvas, and #4s are items such as VSD water pump.

Of course, these priorities change constantly; for example that VSD fresh water pump just got moved up to a #2 while we’ve been getting ready to live aboard. Our older water pump sounds like a jack jammer has been set loose in the bilge so we’ve decided it’s worth the extra $200 right now for nice silent fresh water delivery like we installed on our Tayana 42. And other items get moved around like this too.

Our goal when planning our projects for the month, also taking cash and time flow into consideration, is to tackle the jobs at the top—the #1s. For instance, we have Install new 55 lb. Delta anchor up at the top, but our 45 lb. CQR is more than adequate for our easy NW summer cruising we’ll be doing this year so this one will wait until next year. Next up in line is to haul all our chain onto the dock and use florescent paint to mark it into 50-foot sections (we have been guessing how much is out by checking how much is left in the chain locker, but this probably isn’t a great long term solution). Install netting on lifelines is likely the next to get checked off as this will offer up more security for our two very mobile and active girls.

That’s the plan anyway. The two projects currently underway are replacing a bit of rot on the under side of our bowsprit with West Systems epoxy and installing a new holding tank for living aboard. Michael had discovered some rotten wood underneath the bow roller which got top priority as replacing the whole 8-foot sprit didn’t sound appealing if we ignored it. And the marina wasn’t on board with our removable holding tank (i.e. the 5-gallon gas can the head drains into) that some creative former owner thought of. So these two projects got pushed to the top.

The problem, as seems to happen with every to-do list I’ve ever had, is that these two items weren’t actually on the list.

So, when we sat down to review our boat to-dos last night, joyously checking off a few items that had been completed last month, we really didn’t want to add these items and actually bring the list to page number two.

The answer was simple: install pencil holder got squiggled.

Chapter 5

A Taste of the Good Life

We were fortunate for Michael to get two weeks off of work in August so we could take a little sailing vacation. This was our longest break in seven years; it was time. We headed north to the San Juan Islands, Wondertime stuffed full with two little girls, two ancient cats, two excited parents, two topped off water tanks, and enough food to get us to Hawaii.

This was to be our first real shakedown cruise, both in terms of narrowing down The List of what we need to get done before we head down the coast next summer, and also to get some serious practice sailing with two young children. And after two marvelous, but incredibly short, weeks we can say with certainty that cruising with children is absolutely nothing like cruising without children.

It’s much more fantastic.

It is also a lot slower. Olympia is quite a long way from the San Juan Islands, given traveling at walking speed. Actually, crawling speed, if you are as bad at timing the currents as we were this trip. We were more interested in timing our travel time for afternoon nap time. Almost two-year-old Holly is at the stage where she is very good at getting around now, wants to explore everything, and has to be watched every second, at least when out in the cockpit. Which leaves one person to tend the boat and the other to tend the toddler. Leah is great at fending for herself; at four and a half she does just fantastic on the boat, having a definite sense of safety, and helping us out quite a bit.

So on our trek northward, we would leave just before or after lunchtime and arrive at our destination four or five hours later. This would leave the morning for exploring and the afternoon for naps or rest and travel. What this also meant was it took us nearly a week to reach the islands and a few days to return (sailing down with the current thankfully!).

No matter. On our first lengthy sailing trip with our two girls it quickly became clear that being anywhere on the boat was all that mattered. Each and every stop contained something new, something magical, something to savor and study.

When you sail with children you have to look; they discover things about the places we visit that we’d never notice or even think to look for. The years Michael and I spent sailing together were filled with many anchorages where we’d never even go ashore; we’d happily spend days on the boat just reading and lounging around. No chance of that now! Every anchorage is filled with a dinghy expedition to shore, or at least along the shore just to see what there is to see. Kids are certainly like puppies this way.

These days, when we look at the guidebook we keep an eye out for things that the girls would really love, like a museum or nice beach. But the truth is the best things we find are completely unexpected, like meeting Popeye the one-eyed plump seal in Friday Harbor or watching the phosphorescence up close in a bucket of seawater at night.

A hike now might mean a 1-mile meander down a wooded trail with frequent—very frequent—stops to pluck bugs, flowers, pinecones, or berries. All the while searching for the perfect hiking stick. Cruising with children is slow, but maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Despite all the wonderful moments, the first week of our trip was, truthfully, hectic and a little draining. I wondered if we were crazy for taking these two tiny, busy children sailing. The alternator was alarming, the kids were bickering, the refrigerator box was too full and what I needed was unfailingly at the bottom of it all. It rained. The adults bickered. But we reached Stuart Island, the most northwestern point of the continental United States. We hiked to Turn Point Light. We went exploring in the dinghy to deserted islands. We hunted jellyfish. We cooked and ate many meals together. We picnicked. We were bone tired at the end of each day. As soon as the children were asleep in bed the adults soon followed. But we were happy and content. We fell into the rhythm of weighing anchor, traveling to the next port, dropping the hook, setting up the dinghy and setting off to discover what was new there. And the frazzled edges of this new way of living seemed to weave together until we began to dread heading back to our hectic 9–5 lives again.

By the time our bow was heading south late in our second week on our little moving island, we thought longingly: yes, we could keep going indeed.

Chapter 6

Same But Different

I was walking out of the library the other day after picking up a couple of books I’d had on hold. One of the books was my favorite book of children’s knitting patterns. It was then that I realized that now we’ve settled into life aboard it’s pretty much back to the same old for the time being: Michael walks to work in the early morning light as I wake up with a hot cup of coffee. The girls soon wake also and I fix them breakfast; then we dress, brush teeth and are off to do errands or drive Leah to preschool or go to library story time or to the park if the rain has taken a break.

And yet. I realized walking out of the library that life is still a little bit different than our life on land had been.

For starters, I have been itching to knit the girls some mittens now that the weather has gotten noticeably chillier. It will be my last chance for a couple of years after all. In our storage unit, tucked away in the stacks of crates is my box stuffed full with my favorite books and in them this book that contains the perfect knitting pattern for children’s mittens. I knew it would be far too much work to dig out just this one book, so I checked the library and lo and behold! It was on the shelf waiting for me to reserve. Easy peasy. And now I had the library’s copy tucked under my arm because actually finding my own was not worth an afternoon.

Leah recently got out her markers to do a little doodling when I noticed that she was having trouble keeping them next to her. It wasn’t that she was dropping them on the floor (well, she was, but that always happens), it was that the markers kept rolling across the table to the other side. The downward side. Wondertime has two 100-gallon water tanks; ideally these heavy tanks would be deep in the keel but in order to accommodate such roomy tanks on our small boat the two tanks lie outboard, a port and a starboard tank. What happens is that when one tank is full and we’re draining the other tank, the boat heels over quite noticeably to the side with the fuller tank. When we catch ourselves gripping on when walking down the hallway, or markers rolling across the table it’s time to switch to the other tank for a day or two. Which is what I did.

And then just this morning I stuck my head into our refrigerated box to grab a carton of soy milk out for Holly to drink with breakfast when I saw that there wasn’t any in there. So I walked up forward into the head and reached into the shower where we store our Costco carton of soy milk boxes and grabbed a fresh one. It was just because I’d been thinking about ways that our life was a little different that I realized that we didn’t used to store soy milk in our shower.

We’ve truly enjoyed adapting to our new (again) way of life. While much of what is different is not so great (hauling laundry up the dock in the rain to the laundry room, hauling ourselves up the dock in the rain to the showers, hauling two cranky girls in the rain up the dock to the car…you get the idea) much of what is different truly just makes life interesting right now.

Leah asked us a few days ago if we were going to the same Christmas tree farm this year as last, the one where we would get to feed the goats and ride in the red wagon out into the fields to cut our tree down. She was a little disappointed when we told her, sorry, we were just driving over to the storage unit to dig out our plastic tree. We returned to the boat with the little fake tree that we’ve been carting around for over ten years and the two boxes of our most-prized Christmas ornaments and